The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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Dwyer's Residence.

In Lenormont's bedroom and studio, the oil painting of the nude woman, which was being continuously painted with blocks of color, suddenly stopped changing, and Eve's facial features, which were almost complete, returned to being blurry.

The entire transformation process came to an abrupt halt the moment Fran removed the unknown, mysterious "curse" from the soul.

"My painting has come to a standstill."

Dwyer stared at the canvas, his gaze calm and empty.

"Unexpected interference, indescribable pull, the picture I've been painting is now entering a blurry and hazy state."

Lenormon's voice was flat and monotonous, like a monotonous narration. However, he was not without emotion; a hint of confusion could be glimpsed in his words. According to his original assumption, the funeral maid should not have been able to resist [Skin Covering].

The limit that a Blade Master disciple who has just stepped into the Mastery stage can achieve is probably only to last a little longer than an ordinary person.

"Perhaps it's too early to choose a Hunter as a target... but I really can't refuse a naive funeral attendant who comes knocking on my door. Let's pack up the canvas, we have to leave."

"Any later, we might pay the price for our greedy expansionist instincts."

As he spoke, Lenormont applied a layer of paraffin wax to the two self-portraits of himself and Dwyer, then carefully rolled them into tubes for easy carrying.

After completing all this, the young man glanced at the unfinished work depicting Sister Eve's appearance and ultimately left it there with considerable regret.

If he takes this painting with him, Funeral Court will likely use the connection between Ifrit and it to locate him, and he doesn't want to experience the tracking skills of seasoned hunters. Once bitten, there's no shaking off.

"Gah!"

Just then, a loud cawing of a crow rang out from the windowsill.

Mu Ning folded its wings and stood steadily on the windowsill. Every now and then, it would dip its black beak into its fluffy breast feathers to tidy them up.

"A harbinger of doom..."

Before Lenomon could finish his exclamation, a massive tailbone made of interlocking steel joints pierced through his chest from behind. He was then slammed against the wall like trash, followed by a dull, fleshy thud that made one frown.

Fran, who had entered the room at some unknown time, stood in the shadows under the kerosene lamp, only his calm, amber-colored eyes faintly visible.

If Sister Heda were here, she could deduce Dr. Fran's current mood just from that look. When he smiled too brightly, or didn't smile at all... it meant she wasn't happy.

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soup!

Chapter Thirteen Surrealism

"Has it been discovered?"

“No, the Hunter of Secrets wouldn’t be able to detect it that quickly… and the Blade Masters don’t have this kind of ritual.”

Seeing his younger brother pierced by the steel tailbone of the "Sphinx" spinal cord, Dwyer showed no emotion, and his tone remained as calm and unchanging as before.

After completely stripping away the pretense, he no longer simulates the emotions of ordinary people.

"Was it just a coincidence that we bumped into each other, or were we being watched all along?"

Dwyer's mouth was opening and closing, but it wasn't a mouth; it was overlapping leaves.

His eyes were blinking, but they weren't eyes; they were soft, melting clocks.

His ears were both closed and open, but they were not ears; they were the wings of an unknown bird.

All the bizarre formations that shouldn't have appeared in that place were now mixed together and depicted in a face, if it could really be called a face.

Vivian widened her eyes slightly, finding it difficult to describe the scene before her, and unable to recall any similar experiences... She only felt a sense of instinctive unease and disgust.

Although there was no concrete evidence, she had a strong intuition at that moment.

Without Dr. Fran's external intervention, Sister Eve would likely have become like this after her complete transformation. In ordinary times, she might appear no different from before, but her inner essence would have been completely altered and distorted.

Just as Vivian thought Dwyer was about to do something, Fran, wearing velvet slippers, lightly stepped forward and met her head-on. The blade-like appendages of the Sphinx suddenly pierced out, tearing and shredding her body.

"Peng!"

Dwyer's figure exploded and shattered like a festive ball.

What's perplexing is that... the contents beneath its outer shell weren't blood, bone fragments, or internal organs, but rather shredded gold leaf and colorful paper scraps. One could even faintly smell the gunpowder smoke from the cannons after they were turned on.

“Hunter of secrets, death no longer shackles the living, just as the beauty I cherish has shed all its pretense.”

Lenomon, who had been impaled through the chest by the coccyx, stood up again.

Although his body resembled a deflated, tattered ball, his movements and speech still maintained a certain fluidity, as if the gruesome wounds that had torn open his chest and broken his spine had never existed.

"The living?"

Upon hearing Lenormon's words, Fran tilted his face slightly, a hint of mockery appearing on his slightly upturned, glossy lips.

It was like hearing an inappropriate, second-rate joke told by someone with an excessive sense of self-consciousness.

"It must be pointed out that many of the patients and cases I have handled have a common psychological defect, or rather, a mental disorder. Oh... they often have a paranoid and unquestionable belief that they are still alive."

Her words caused a crack to appear on Lenormont's otherwise calm face, like a piece of porcelain that had been chipped and broken, but then the cracks were mended again in the next moment.

The Dwyer, which had previously been scattered into a mess of colorful paper scraps, was also reforming, and within a few breaths, its human-shaped outline reappeared.

Is it impossible to kill by conventional means? Or is it some kind of illusion?

These two guesses naturally came to Vivian's mind, but she quickly rejected them herself.

Only high priests of at least the fourth tier or mythical creatures would possess a certain resistance to death, a symbol of their shedding of mortality. The two before them clearly did not belong to this category.

As for illusions...

To be honest, she didn't think anyone could pull off such a mind-altering trick on Dr. Fran.

Vivian's gaze swept across the entire studio environment with a serious expression, finally noticing the two wooden easels that no longer had canvases, and a half-finished painting depicting the general outline of Sister Eve.

Based on what Dr. Fran said before, could it be that these two people are no longer their original forms, but have been transformed into special non-human beings by some kind of secret ritual?

While she was still pondering, Dwyer, who had regained his human form, moved.

He moved swiftly towards Fran, closing in on him in the blink of an eye.

His current body is made up of those bizarre and illogical things.

Its neck is the lamppost of a streetlamp, its arms are the wooden legs of a round stool, its eyes peek out like snails, and its heart is exposed outside its chest... It is a vibrant rose that is constantly pumping and withering.

"So you've decided to fight back? I thought we could resolve our conflict with a single dialogue check."

That being said, it seems that Fran was the one launching the attack from beginning to end, and he had no intention of leaving any survivors.

Just as Dwyer was about to touch her, she quickly unfurled a cloth scroll in her hand.

Upon seeing the contents of the painting, Dwyer immediately stopped. In order not to damage the painting, he even allowed himself to crash into the wall after turning, causing his body to shatter again.

It was an oil painting carefully rolled up and wrapped, depicting Dwyer himself.

"...Was it stolen just now?"

Lenormont glanced at his baggage; the two scrolls, sealed in layers, had vanished without a trace. He thought back for a moment, and realized that the scrolls might have been taken when he was first impaled by the steel tailbone.

There was no trace, and it was undetectable.

With both his portrait and Dwyer's portrait stolen, it's as if his lifeline has been taken over by someone else.

"Humph."

The young painter glanced at the easel beside him and immediately reached out to snatch the nun's portrait that was left on the easel.

If they can leave, then this painting of Sister Eve is a burden that needs to be discarded. If they keep it, they can consider using it as leverage in negotiations.

Gunshots rang out, and a black bullet hole appeared in his palm. Vivian pulled the trigger of the pistol hidden in her sleeve.

The steel-core bullet's stopping effect caused Lenormont's entire movement to pause, and Fran, at that moment, ignited a burst of fiery energy from his fingertips onto the self-portraits of Lenormont and Dwyer.

The next moment, the deep yellow, chaotic, and frenzied flames twisted and exploded like snakes.

The flames not only enveloped the canvas, but also appeared as if they were a tangible part of Lenormont and Dwyer.

The young painter and his brother didn't even have time to speak before they were burned to ashes, along with the bizarre contents of their bodies.

Without a doubt, the brothers' strange symptoms were the manifestations of Sister Eve's disease reaching its terminal stage.

Under normal circumstances, Fran has no intention of interfering in the life process of ordinary people and is not stingy in showing a gentle attitude towards others. Every gene, every sample, and every individual has its own meaning and value.

Doing anything unnecessary before ensuring that resources are used to their fullest potential is tantamount to waste.

The above is based on the premise that the other party does not provoke her; otherwise, she will exercise her unlimited right to self-defense as a natural person. At the same time, she is subtly supplementing her biological material database, albeit somewhat illegally.

The Normon brothers have completely lost their soul and humanity, becoming inhuman beings no different from evil offspring.

Even as Qi's body was torn apart by the Sphinx of the Inlaid Spine, the two maintained an almost bizarre detachment, showing not even a trace of pain. They were like exquisitely crafted marionettes.

Only when they were ignited and burned by the mad fire did they begin to struggle violently, letting out hysterical screams of pain.

However... since the spirit has been tainted by the flames of madness, destruction and annihilation are the only possible outcomes.

"Phew, finally they're completely dead."

Seeing the two eerie figures in the painting completely vanish into dust, Vivian patted her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

After observing for a moment, she carefully walked closer to Fran.

"Dr. Fran, do you know why the Dwyer brothers became like this? A curse, a plague, or the influence of some kind of relic?"

According to the intelligence provided by the Secret Service, neither Dwyer nor his brother Lenormont were ordinary citizens of Norrington who had ever come into contact with the deep secrets beneath the surface of the world... and their mutations were also very different from the usual evil offspring.

"Vivian, do you know anything about art?"

Fran didn't answer directly, but instead asked a question rather abruptly.

Vivian blinked upon hearing this, a hint of guilt flashing in her eyes.

"Rarely in contact."

Vivian had actually been exposed to some classical art, but mostly she appreciated the serene and gentle human figures, finding it difficult to articulate any specific academic content. Aside from that, she probably only looked at the unspeakable erotic illustrations in novels of manners…

"That's it."

Fran nodded slightly, then slowly retracted the steel limbs of the Sphinx into his body.

“My dear Vivian, if you had paid more attention to the painting section at the White Cup Order’s Plum Moon Ritual exhibition last year… you would have noticed that the style of several paintings is very similar to Dwyer’s state just now.”

"A magical and irrational 'surrealism'."

"A soft clock, withered and flourishing roses, melting stone sculptures... Chaos, absurdity, meaninglessness and confusion."

Although the doctor was able to accurately describe the artistic style of Dwyer's transmuted form, the specific occult influences behind it remain unknown.

She lost too many memories in the process of self-disruption, and some secrets from too long ago are now difficult to recall and trace.

However, there is currently a resident from Yuanhai in the Fog Street Clinic who is quite knowledgeable about secret arts, so we could invite her to come and appraise it.

"Surrealism..."

Vivian pursed her lips, seemingly having a vague recollection of it.

She'd been making routine patrols at the White Cup Plum Moon Festival exhibitions for the past few years, but she found it incredibly difficult to develop any interest in those bizarre paintings. Frankly, they really did look like scribbles done on drugs.

Fran did not delve deeper into this topic, but instead began working on the next phase of Ifrit's treatment.

She gently twisted her index finger and thumb, extracting a wisp of the stolen soul essence from the nun's portrait, and then stuffing it back into Ift's body.

"cough!"

Almost as soon as her spirit returned to wholeness, Ift began to cough violently. Soon the cough turned into vomiting, as if she wanted to empty her stomach and throat of everything.

What flowed from her lips was a sticky, pungent-smelling paint of mixed colors.

About ten minutes later, Sister Eve finished vomiting, but the intense abdominal spasms did not stop. Her body continued to twitch slightly from time to time, and her face and breath were extremely weak.

However, her distorted and chaotic facial features are now showing a remarkable trend of recovery.

"The abnormalities on my face will recover on their own after the curse is lifted... that saves me from having to have plastic surgery."

After Fran fed Eve a green capsule, the nun's vital signs gradually stabilized.

At that moment, the notification of the end of her medical treatment rang in her ears.

[The 'Skin Cover' status for 'Funeral Maid' Ift has faded. Your August monthly house call is complete, Completion: A. Your next monthly house call will be randomly triggered within the next month.]

[This consultation fee includes: 1 unknown technical manual.]

After completing her nighttime fieldwork, Fran clapped her hands, then stretched her back and neck with a slight weariness. Perhaps because she was disturbed just as she was about to fall asleep, her medical practice this time was rather rough, and she didn't even leave any material for research.

Based on her usual practice, she would likely capture and contain Lenormon first, and then throw him onto the dissection table to gradually analyze the essence of "skin covering".